by Patrice Lyle
Rachel was five-foot-eight, had a big ego, and a temper to match. Her skinny jeans and skintight red shirt showed off all her assets perfectly.
She ignored Georgie and me completely and pulled Wes aside, whispering something in his ear. I heard him mumble a reply, which obviously hadn't pleased her as she flicked her dark hair over her shoulder and spun on her heel away from us. Wes blushed and turned his attention back to Georgie.
"Sorry about that. Now, what were you saying?"
Georgie continued telling him her life story, but after a few minutes, I got bored and wandered off for a look around the studio. The walls had been transformed into a gallery of old photos taken at various times over the last fifty years of the station's history. I remembered some of the faces in the photos, but even those I didn't remember shone happily, reminding me of the fun we had working here.
Once I'd done a lap of the room, I stepped over to Georgie, who'd moved on from Wes and was now chatting with an elderly gentleman I didn't recognize.
"Well hello, lovely lady." He smiled at me.
"Hello," I replied.
"This is Arthur." Georgie made the introduction. "He works here helping Mum and Dad." Georgie's mum and dad were still employed here, acting as jacks-of-all-trades.
"Oh wow!" I said excitedly.
"You look familiar," he said. Finally, someone recognized me. "Did I work with you in the seventies?" he asked.
I felt the blush start at my neck and spread rapidly north.
"No, sorry, you didn't. I wasn't born until 1986," I mumbled. Quickly changing the subject, I whispered to Georgie, "Hey, who is that woman over there standing next to Sally?" The woman in question had done exactly what she had been asked to do and had put on a name badge. Maybe this was something I should've done.
"Her name tag says Katie. I don't remember her though. Why?"
"She keeps staring at me as if she knows me, but I don't remember her either." I had been discreetly looking at her for the past ten minutes, wondering if I knew her. I really hoped I wouldn't do to her what everyone seemed to do to me. It was a bit embarrassing to keep having to repeat who I was.
"She looks about our age." Georgie was right. Katie looked to be in her late twenties. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her white shirt was tight under her navy-blue jacket. Her jeans sat low on her hips, and her makeup was immaculate. "Maybe she's a current employee."
"But she's looking at me like she knows me."
"Sorry, I don't know who she is." Georgie shrugged.
Me neither. So why was my intuition buzzing?
INVITATION TO MURDER
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